Whenever I start a new book, I try to put together a soundtrack that makes me feel the way I want the story to make me feel. It’s a valuable tool, because at some point I become sick of my own book, and the songs help remind me what I’m aiming for. Screenwriter John August puts it well: “A good playlist helps you get started. A great playlist helps you finish.”
I thought I’d share some of the songs that helped me finish The Night Gardener. According to iTunes, I listened to these and a few other tracks more than 300 times …
As many of you know, last week was “Children’s Book Week.” Authors were asked to submit 1 min videos talking about books they love. I knew that wasn’t enough time, so I instead made my video into a sort of flashcard challenge:
I got a number of emails from people wanting to know all the book titles, so here’s the master list:
The Little Prince – Alice in Wonderland – The Golden Compass – A Little Princess – Darth Paper – Pinocchio – Rutabaga Stories – Mary Poppins – Bud, not Buddy – The Chocolate War – The White Mountains – The Witch of Blackbird Pond – The One and Only Ivan – Matilda – The High king – Holes – The Higher Power of Lucky – The Last of the Really Great Wangdoodles – Five Children and It – The Mysterious Journey of Edward Tulane – Book of the Dun Cow – Howl’s Moving Castle – Peter and Wendy – The Twenty-One Balloons – Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle – A Wrinkle in Time – Little Women – The Princess Academy – The Graveyard Book – Charlotte’s Web – Dominic – Diary of a Wimpy Kid – The Phantom Tollbooth – My Father’s Dragon – The Neddiad – Anne of Green Gables – Redwall – The Man in the Ceiling – The Wonderful Wizard of Oz – Winnie the Pooh – Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
A few weeks ago, I did a Creative Mornings talk at the Pittsburgh Children’s Museum on the topic of “Childhood.” This was my attempt to connect children’s literature to a broader audience–specifically talking about what it means to work in an industry where the audience (children) are separate from the buyer (grownups). Of special interest might be the anecdote I tell about Tom Angleberger at minute 15 … an event he has since claimed didn’t occur (it totally did). Also, of course, I finish things off with a yo-yo show!
Creative Mornings is a fantastic organization. Find out about the next event in your own city and check it out!
The hipster haunts every city street and university town. Manifesting a nostalgia for times he never lived himself, this contemporary urban harlequin appropriates outmoded fashions (the mustache, the tiny shorts), mechanisms (fixed-gear bicycles, portable record players) and hobbies (home brewing, playing trombone). He harvests awkwardness and self-consciousness. Before he makes any choice, he has proceeded through several stages of self-scrutiny. The hipster is a scholar of social forms, a student of cool. […] He is a walking citation; his clothes refer to much more than themselves. He tries to negotiate the age-old problem of individuality, not with concepts, but with material things.
I feel like a piece like this crops up every year or so, and the consistent factor in all these articles is that the author feels left out of a culture that he/she does not belong to. This article feels about as accurate as those that came out of 9/11 declaring that irony was “dead.” If anything, the hipsters I have known have been excessively earnest people … the only way you might think otherwise is if you were extrapolating their entire person from their clothes, facial hair, and twitter feeds. Lady Gaga may wear a meat dress, but she also gives speeches about bullying. Those same smirking “harlequins” were the ones who started the Occupy movement.
More importantly, I disagree with the premise that earnestness is inherently superior to irony. Since when has the ability to laugh — especially at oneself — been a bad thing?2 The author points to 4 year-old children and animals as exemplars of earnest behavior. From where I stand, those are not necessarily things for adults to aspire to. To celebrate humanity is to celebrate the ways we are different from animals — irony is one of the ways we can do that.
Sure, there’s a possible danger to too much detachment. And, as I’ve discussed before, it can be used to hurt people. But none of these things are unique to one generation.
Please pass the word to any-and-all librarians you know that the historic CC Mellor Library in Pittsburgh is looking for a new children’s librarian! This library is two blocks from my house and it is a truly lovely building in the middle of a charming, safe, historic neighborhood.
If you don’t live in Pittsburgh, you should know that it is an incredibly livable city — some people (ahem, Forbes Magazine, The Economist) would even say it is the most livable in the United States. Also, it is home to Mr. Rodgers. Try and tell me you don’t want to come to work in a place that looks like this:
Just to sweeten the pot: I’ll take whoever gets the job to D’s Six Pack and Dogs for dinner — you have not lived until you’ve eaten a salad with french fries on top.
You can find all the info about the position here. Tell your friends!
One of the things I’ve been thinking about a lot lately are the differences between cable and network television. This is not a new topic. Much hay has been made of the way pay-channels like HBO and Showtime don’t have to worry about commercial breaks … but why is it that even the shows on “free” cable channels like FX and AMC still feel better than network shows?1
For me, one essential factor is the difference in season lengths. Cable TV shows generally only run for 11-13 episodes per season, while network shows nearly double that number. Obviously, a writer needing to produce twice as much content in the same year might end up sacrificing quality for speed … but what if there were another reason? What if a shorter season was actually linked to better storytelling in some essential way?
This week I’ve been enjoying reading the AV Club’s series of interviews with “Freaks & Geeks” creator Paul Feig, in which he talks through the writing and shooting of every episode in the short-lived series. In the interview, Feig discusses how he and co-creator Judd Apatow discovered early on they were being cancelled at the end of the season:
This comment was sort of an “Aha!” moment for me. Suddenly, Feig and co-creator Judd Apatow had to cram all the best story parts into the final six episodes. And maybe that’s why “Freaks & Geeks” was such a brilliant show — every episode felt like it was truly an event. I can’t help but wonder if the show would have been quite as strong without the axe hanging over the creators’ heads?2
Going back to the question of cable shows, I can’t help but think of how Feig’s experience applies to season premieres and finales. Premieres and finales are where a series delvers its biggest dramatic punch — rules are changed, people are killed, stakes are raised. A little basic math informs me that a cable show (whose seasons end after just 13 episodes) will have those moments twice as often as a network show. No matter how you cut it, that gives the cable show a huge storytelling advantage because it disallows filler.3
How does this apply to writing in general? I suspect it connects somehow to series books, but I haven’t worked that part out. In the meantime, it’s simply a powerful parable about the importance of not holding anything back. I’m currently in the middle of a second book, and I’m constantly getting exciting story ideas that I think I should save for a story in the distant future. That’s ridiculous. I should be putting everything into the book I’m writing now. I should be treating this book like the last one I may ever get to write.
- “Free” is, of course, a euphamism for hundreds of dollars a year ↩
- British TV seems to have internalized this idea without the need of a network axe. Consider the abbreviated runs of “The Office” or “Fawlty Towers,” both of which ended because their respective creators would rather have no new episodes than bad new episodes ↩
- If you’re in the mood for more TV thoughts, you should check out screenwriter Matt Bird’s current blog series “How to Create a TV Show” ↩
The last five weeks have been an insane grind for Team Auxier. I was planning to do several posts announcing various things as they came up, but time got away from me. Instead, I’m just going down the list …
I’ve been touring schools and bookstores all over California — about thirty events in the last month. (Click here to see pictures from a recent event … and video of me doing a favorite YO-YO trick!) I also managed to sneak out to Wordstock in Portland and the Miami Book Fair International.1
I OPTIONED A MOVIE
To real producers! With real money! The story is one I’ve been working on for a while — a period ghost tale in the tradition of Washington Irving about a haunted tree. The one problem was that selling the movie meant I had to completely re-write the last half while on book tour. I finished last night!
This month, Mary and I packed up all our dishes and made the 3000 mile trek to Pittsburgh, PA!2 The ‘Burgh is a wonderful city that has topped virtually every “most livable” list for the last decade. Also, we met there.
WE BOUGHT A HOUSE!
One great thing about Pittsburgh is an abundance of amazing old homes. Coming from the West Coast, I thrill at the idea of living in something not covered in stucco. As of last night, Mary and I are the owners of this hundred year-old gem on a tree-lined street in Regent Square. How’s that for a black Friday purchase?
AND THE LAST THING …
You might be asking yourself why a young couple might leave sunny Los Angeles for snowy Pittsburgh? Well, Mary grew up here, and we want to be near family when we have our baby in May. Did I mention we’re having a baby? Because we so totally are.
What’s the difference between irony and sarcasm? Most thesauri list them as synonyms, but anyone who’s been on the receiving end of either type of humor can tell you the difference at once: ironic statements make you laugh, and sarcastic statements make you cry.
Many a protective parent has assured his or her teased child that sarcasm is the lowest form of humor. And the word sarcasm literally translates to mean “to tear the flesh.” But what exactly is it it about a sarcastic statement that makes it a low form of humor? And what makes it “tear the flesh?” I’ve been mulling over this question for a while now, and I think I’ve landed on an answer:
Sarcasm happens when the observed irony does not extend to the speaker.
That is to say that an ironic person includes himself among the mocked, whereas a sarcastic person stands outside the situation in judgement. See how it might play out in the below scene involving a bunch of nerds camping outside of a movie theater:
In this instance, the guy making fun of the people is including himself in the joke — after all, he’s in the line, too! But consider what happens when the speaker is not in line with the others:
Sarcasm is the one kind of joke that can be made by someone who does not actually find something funny — it is humor for the humorless. In life, I have a problem with sarcasm because I don’t believe that any person has the right to laugh at others unless he can first laugh at himself.
And what about sarcasm in storytelling?
To be clear, I’m all for sarcastic characters (I enjoy Holden Caulfield as much as the next guy!). But sarcastic authors are a different thing altogether. Sarcastic authors attempt to point out absurdities in the world, but they try to do it from a safe distance — never letting themselves become a part of the joke. The only way to do this is by creating straw men for the express purpose of knocking them down. Ironically(!), this ends up undercutting the author’s initial goal, because now instead of critiquing the world, he is critiquing some flimsy characters who bear little resemblance to the world.
The end result is a thing neither funny nor true.
I’m sure regular Scop readers are getting sick of all my recent publicity-style announcements about Peter Nimble. In that spirit, I am going to restrain my gushing about last week’s book launch party to the footnote at the end of this sentence.1 Instead, I want to focus on one question that came up during the Q & A from blogger/teacher Monica Edinger.
Monica wanted me to discuss how I had patterned my narrator after the narrator in JM Barrie’s Peter Pan.2 Though flattered by the comparison, I didn’t agree with her point. I wasn’t able to sufficiently respond to her at the event, but I did follow up with an email, which I’ve excerpted below.
My Three Reasons that the Narrator in Peter Nimble Is Different than the Narrator of Peter Pan:
Barrie gives his Narrator a special vocabulary. If the digressions of Peter Pan indicate that the Narrator is spinning his tale, his language enforces it. More than once, Barrie uses opaque terms that have no grounding in the real world. A perfect example of this would be Mrs. Darling’s “kiss,” which never really gets explained. That’s because there is no explanation beyond its offhand use. Unlike the teacherly essayists of the 18th century (and, I would argue, Peter Nimble’s Narrator), Barrie’s Narrator isn’t interested in sharing/defining this special vocabulary with his readers.
Barrie’s Narrator sentimentalizes childhood. While Barrie isn’t afraid to let his child characters get a little bloody, he still maintains an infatuation with their innate innocence reminiscent of the Romantics. Even in calling Peter Pan “heartless,” there is a sense of longing in the Narrator’s voice … children are to him pure in a way adults will never be. I would argue that in the Narrator of Peter Nimble, we may find affection toward our young hero, but never adoration of the level that Barrie uses for Peter Pan… the Narrator of Peter Nimble, for example, would never suggest that Peter or Peg contains something special that adults like Professor Cake do not.
Monica was kind enough to respond. While she agreed with my above points, she also thought I was ignoring one major similarity in our writing — specifically how both our narrators are able to move between character perspectives. I’ve reprinted Monica’s excellent response below (with some minor edits).
Monica’s One Gigantic Reason That I’m Wrong:
When reading Peter Nimble I noticed the omniscient narrator as a character, breaking through here and there to explain things … I became extremely aware of this sort of narration due to Philip Pullman.3 Philip speaks of his narrator as a sprite, a character who can flit all over the place. I did think you did that as did Barrie … isn’t your narrator in that tradition of being able to be in different places, inside the minds of different characters, etc.? This is what Philip finds so fascinating about the omniscient narrator and me, too.
And just like that, I’m forced to completely reverse my opinion on the subject! Going through the book, I realize that a narrator that shifts perspectives is a pretty rare thing, and other than Barrie, I can’t think of another early author that does it. Well played, Ms. Edinger.
And she’s not alone! This very same topic came up last week in an interview with author Kate Milford … and my response was similarly dense.
What’s the moral of this story?
Never trust a writer to talk about his own book. He’s an idiot.
- Holy crap, it was AMAZING! We had about 90 people show up … which is a lot more than they had chairs for! I got a chance to meet so many wonderful readers, and reconnect with old friends. We gave away Peter Nimble t-shirts to everyone who asked questions. There was also a birthday cake, which was delicious! (I even forced the people to sing “happy Birthday” to me!) The biggest treat of all was that my father, who had just had emergency surgery in DC, checked himself out of the hospital that morning so he could show up and surprise me — I may or may not have cried upon seeing him. For those interested in seeing some pics, you can go here, here, or here. Also, Adam Silva did a great rundown of the event here. ↩
- I have a well-documented love for Peter Pan. Betsy Bird outlines a few Barrie connections in her School Library Journal review. Also, I talk about the relationship between one of my main characters and Wendy Darling in this interview with Bookpage Magazine. ↩
- Yes, she is on a first-name basis with the man! For those who are interested in the subject of the “sprite” narrator, I’d advise you to check out Monica’s very-excellent post on the subject here. ↩